Choosing the Teams (Scene) - Eric's POV
by thefactionlessauthor
Summary: "'Got something to prove' I ask, smirking, 'Or are you just picking the weak ones so that if you lose, you'll have someone to blame it on' he should consider his team has already lost this game. Four shrugs, 'Something like that.'" One-shot in Eric's POV of choosing the teams before Capture the Flag. [Disclaimer: Canon dialogue from the book].


**A/N: I'm beginning to think I should have grouped these into one story and just named it like "The Eric Verses" or something haha! It's fun writing in his perspective, and it's given me a lot of inspiration to write again. For those wondering if I'll continue Break Me Down and repost my old stories, the answer is possibly right now. I know I am reediting them and such, but I don't have as much inspiration for them just yet, unfortunately. But I am trying to post more often again.**

The initiates dorm is dark when we enter, until our flashlights illuminate it. Some cover their eyes while others don't even bother to open their eyes, instead they just groan at our intrusion.

"Everybody up!" I yell.

Initiates jump to their feet, all except for the Stiff. I move my light to her, asking, "Did you go deaf, Stiff?" She scrambles to her feet, looking flustered. The Candor girl beside her gives me a harsh look, never backing down. I think I could hate the Candor more than the Abnegation some days—both are equally annoying. "You have five minutes to get dressed and meet us by the tracks. We're going on another field trip."

Our annual game of Capture the Flag—not just a game, but a test to see who has developed the right skills and how to properly use them when faced with a target. We leave the dorm and head for the tracks, waiting until the last person has arrived.

Four and I stand along a pile of paint guns. The initiates glance around us curiously, waiting for their instructions. "Everyone grab a gun!" I order. They do as their told, the last two guns remain for me and Four. I ask him, "Time estimate?"

Four looks at his watch, sighing, "Any minute now. How long is it going to take you to memorize the train schedule?" I wonder why he even has it memorized in the first place— _seems a bit odd to know it's arrival minute for minute unless one was leaving quite often_...

"Why should I, when I have you to remind me of it?" I ask, giving his shoulder a rough push. Four gives me a cold stare. The train appears then, growing closer to our platform. Four and I break into a sprint first; he catches on easily, and is the first one on. He must leave a lot, for that kind of comfortability. The initiates follow once they realize the plan.

The train cart fills up as more people get on. I notice Four reach out for the Stiff, pulling her into the cart— _so keen on being a helping hand, Eaton_. _How Abnegation of you, helping on of your own_.

"We'll be dividing into two teams to play capture the flag. Each team will have an even mix of numbers, Dauntless-born initiates, and transfers. One team will get off first and find a place to hide their flag. Then the second team will get off and do the same. This is a Dauntless tradition, so I suggest you take it seriously."

"What do we get if we win?" Someone shouts from the back. Four shoots them a cutting glare.

"Sounds like the kind of question someone not from Dauntless would ask," he says harshly, "You get to win, of course."

"Four and I will be your captains," I say, and I look at him, "let's divide up transfers first, shall we?" He nods.

"You go first," he says.

"Edward," _Obviously_. He's number one in the rankings, and _not_ a Stiff. His strength could be very rewarding on my team—stronger the better, they can take down opponents easier. And with Edward's height, he could see things higher up much easier. I turn to Four and wait for him to choose his first teammate. He seems to be in deep thought, scanning the group before us.

"I want the Stiff," Four says after a moment, his voice firm. _He's serious_. Laughter fills the cart, and the Stiff just looks to her feet. _What is he playing at?_ To pick the Stiff first—it will be hard to take his team seriously now.

"Got something to prove?" I ask, smirking, "Or are you just picking the weak ones so that if you lose, you'll have someone to blame it on?" Her rank is so low—almost at the bottom. If this is his method of redemption for those in the bottom rankings, he should consider his team has already lost this game.

Four shrugs, "Something like that." There is a hint of something else in his expression, something I can't read—and I am a good reader of people. _He couldn't possibly want her on his team just because_... Four and I don't see eye to eye, so I know he sees something I don't. But when I see a Stiff, there isn't much to look at. They usually just blend in with the background like they are supposed to.

"Your turn," Four nods.

"Peter." Leader material—a bit of a know-it-all, because he was a Candor to start. But he will survive here, undoubtedly so.

"Christina." After their scuffle of words the first day, I'm surprised Four has looked past her annoying tendencies to pick the Candor.

"Molly," I say. She is a follower at best—too uncharismatic to be a leader. But her intimidating physicality could save her here.

"Will," Four bites his thumbnail. _A bit nervous already for this outcome, are we?_

"Al." He needs improvement—but his size alone is what my team needs.

"Drew."

"Last one left is Myra. So she's with me," I say.

"Dauntless-born initiates next," Four says with a nod. We go through the Dauntless-born much quicker, until we have even, full teams.

I give Four a winning grin, and say, "Your team can get off second."

"Don't do me any favors," Four retorts, a smirk forming on his face, "You know I don't need them to win." I feel my blood begin to boil—of course, I almost forgot about the _great_ Four, why would he ever need anything handed to him?

"No, I know that you'll lose no matter when you get off," I hiss at him, "Take your scrawny team and get off first, then." When the train cart gets lower to the ground, Four jumps off first, followed by his teammates.

 _Let the games begin_. May the best team— _mine_ —win.


End file.
